


No Mistake

by vivilove



Series: Historical AUs [16]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Escape, F/M, Happy Ending, Historical Westeros, Inspired by The Last of the Mohicans, Joffrey is trying to win Sansa's hand, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Jon is half-wilding, Mid-1700s, Running Away, another historical au nobody asked for, by hanging the guy she likes, marriage proposals, obviously that's not going to work out for him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24074074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: He sits in the stockade, a condemned man, but claims it was worth it to help the others find their way back home.It is an injustice born of one petty man's jealousy.  If her father was not so preoccupied, she thinks he would listen to her plea and see that this is a mistake.  But Lord Stark is too busy with other matters and Sansa must act to prevent a tragedy.She's frightened but she can do this.Brave, like a lady in a song.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Historical AUs [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747234
Comments: 50
Kudos: 212





	No Mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts).



> For Amy's word prompt: Mistake and because I was thinking about 'The Last of the Mohicans' the other day (although this is not remotely sad.) Have another historical AU no one asked for!
> 
> Posting today since four years ago this happened...
> 
> And I _may_ have become a touch obsessed with them ever since :)

* * *

Is this a mistake?

Fear brings her to a halt, her skirts whishing about her legs and the dying echoes of her footfalls upon the stockade’s steps greeting her straining ears along with the far off sounds of the soldiers and their revelry.

This is _not_ a mistake.

She’s correcting one she decides before she starts moving again.

Theoretically, Major Joffrey Baratheon had been in charge of their party. He had been ‘honored’ with the task of escorting the young lady safely to her father who is second in command to his father. Joffrey had also asked for her hand in marriage right before they’d left civilization.

 _“My father suggested it and your father did not disagree. Our family connections would make it a sound match for us both, my lady,”_ he’d said as if it were decided.

So much for romance.

 _“Forgive me but it’s so sudden. Permit me a little time to reflect, sir,”_ she’d hedged.

 _“Young ladies have little need to reflect when a suitable offer of marriage comes their way with the approval of their elders,_ ” he’d laughed before generously telling her to take her time.

 _“Thank you for your forbearance,”_ she’d said with a sweet smile whilst digging her fingernails into her palms and fearing she might be forced to accept this man in the end.

Or not.

That had been before she’d met Jon after all.

He’s half wildling, employed as a guide by the army to lead them through the wild and hostile territory of the frontier. To Sansa’s eyes, it was Jon who had been leading their small group of soldiers, one pompous ass of a major and a lady along the perilous path to the northern outpost.

She had not known what to make of him at first. She fears she might’ve offended him a time or two with her ignorance of this land and its people. He’d certainly offended her once or twice with his own assumptions.

But that was at the start.

She sees him more clearly now and he sees her, too. No matter their differences, in the end, they are two people, a man and a woman who value similar things, home and family and peace. More than that, Sansa’s nearly certain there had been something there, something too sweet and tenuous to name perhaps but undeniably forming between them.

And when Joffrey had later quailed and fled along with his soldiers when their party was attacked on the way here by enemies, leaving her alone to face an unspeakable fate, it was Jon who had come for her. Their plain-spoken guide had fought more bravely than any man alive and saved her.

 _"Like a knight rescuing a damsel in distress,_ " she'd murmured before she'd been able to stop herself.

 _"A knight rescuing a damsel?"_ Her cheeks had grown hot at his grin. 

_"Like in the old stories and songs,"_ she'd clarified before finishing with a touch of frostiness in her embarrassment, _"Never mind."_

But there had been no unkindness in his teasing look when he'd glanced down at his buckskins and furs. _"I don't have any armor hiding under these but..."_ He'd bit his lip and started chuckling to himself before carefully taking her hand. _"You showed a lot of courage yourself."_

_"Me? No, I'm...no one would call me courageous."_

_"You are to me,"_ he'd shrugged. _"This way, my lady."_

When they had met back up with Joffrey and his men in the woods later, her valiant suitor claimed he’d been regrouping his forces to make an attack and rescue her. She’d nodded but said nothing, knowing in that moment she could never willingly marry him.

_And who will you marry? You can’t marry Jon… or can you?_

Her family would never approve of such a match for Lady Sansa Stark even if Jon were inclined to ask which she doubts will ever happen no matter how many longing looks they’d exchanged across the campfire or how he’d held her hand when they’d crossed streams or allowed his hand to linger at the small of her back when assisting her up a bit of rocky terrain during their travels.

By the time they’d reached the fort, Joffrey had become quite sullen, realizing his proposal was going to be rejected and all too aware that something was blossoming between the lady and their guide.

With his father’s unthinking support, he’d put Jon in an impossible position, knowing he would choose his mother’s people’s more immediate needs over the army's and then pouncing when he’d done just that.

Now, Jon is charged with sedition for helping the army’s conscripted wildlings leave the fort so that they might return to their homesteads and protect their kin and neighbors from enemy raids. He sits in the stockade, a condemned man, but claims it was worth it to help the others find their way back home. 

It is an injustice born of one petty man's jealousy. If her father was not so preoccupied, she thinks he would listen to her plea and see that this is a mistake. But Lord Stark is too busy with other matters and Sansa must act to prevent a tragedy. 

She's frightened but she can do this. _Brave, like a lady in a song._

As quiet as a mouse, or so she hopes, Sansa creeps into the stockade. The lanterns burn low and the guard is asleep. Jon appears to be as well but when she moves closer she sees his grey eyes are open and watching her curiously.

“No,” he says softly when she removes the key from the peg on the wall.

“Yes,” she whispers back. “They’ll hang you in the morning elsewise.”

The guard shifts and grumbles in his sleep and her heart is racing. _Mistake, this is a mistake. They could hang you, too._

She grits her teeth and tells the fear to be silent. This is no mistake. And if they catch her, she may as well ask them to hang her next to him.

The iron door gives a sharp screech when it’s opened and yet the guard remains in his dreams.

“Fermented goat’s milk,” Jon chuckles quietly. “He drank all that Tormund gave me before he left. It’s heady stuff especially for one unaccustomed to it.” But when they reach the steps again, he pauses. “Why are you doing this, my lady?”

 _Can you not guess?_ she thinks but does not say it. She could not bear to hear him deny her heart no more than she could bear to see him hanged. "Sometimes, the damsel can rescue the knight."

She spies the flicker of a tender smile crossing his face before they make their way up the steps together. 

“I would not see you troubled or harmed on my account,” he says once they are outdoors again beneath the stars and moon.

“They won’t know it was me.”

“Who else would’ve bothered?”

“Perhaps there are other half-wildlings like yourself hidden among their soldiers or one of the people who work outside the fort came for you.” It would make a good story though not as romantic to Sansa’s ears.

He’s silent at that but scowls as they make their way to the postern gate where the men are entering and exiting as they please on their way to the nearby brothels and taverns. No one will notice one more man slipping past the disinterested guards. Jon will melt into the forest like a wolf in the blink of an eye and he’ll be free. _Where will you go?_ she thinks, sadly. To his home that will never be hers, she supposes. 

“You would have innocent soldiers or civilians accused of conspiring to free me?” he asks when they are nearly there.

She had not thought of it that way. “No, I would not but Joffrey and the other officers will have no evidence of anything. They can cast their suspicions all they like. There is still a war to fight and they’ll forget you soon enough. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless I am gone on the morrow as well.”

She sees the spark in his eyes that makes her heart pound with hope before he grimaces. “It would be a mistake.”

Her hope dims. “Of course. I would slow you down.”

“Yes but I don’t mean that.”

“You would be sure to grow tired of my company.”

“Never.” His hands are grasping hers, rough and leathery compared to her delicate ones. “Sansa…it is you who would regret it. You’re a lady and it would be harder living than you can imagine. It can be dangerous on the frontier and everything we have, we have to forage, labor or make do for ourselves. I don't mean to insult you when I say it'd be far more difficult than the life you've led.”

“Is it harder or more dangerous than our journey? Would it be more difficult than marriage to a man like Joffrey might turn out in the end for me?”

He swallows hard, his expression miserable as he leans towards her. “Don’t marry him,” he says, his voice husky and pleading.

“Who am I to marry? I’m not the sort of woman who can remain here unattached forever, not in a place like this.”

He knows she is right. Her father is busy fighting a war and his primary concern towards his daughter will be to see her married and settled. If not Joffrey, there’ll be another man making his proposals before long. She has no desire to carve out a life here on her own anyway…especially not if she could have the right man by her side. Why not Jon?

“I would hate to take you with me if you might someday judge your choices here tonight a mistake.”

“I would hate for you to leave me here and wonder if you made one yourself.”

A few shouts brings their attention back to their present situation. It is only soldiers growing rowdy on drink but they both know he must go and soon.

He’s still holding one of her hands. She strokes his whiskers with her free one. “I will not go unless you truly want me. Say it or say nothing and be on your way. I would never wish for you to consider me a mistake.”

The words spill from his lips in less than a second, their foreheads touching and her heart thundering with joy. “I'd never name you a mistake. Come with me. Come away with me, my lady."

"Where will we go?" she asks, thinking she could float with happiness in this moment.

"To my little homestead in the hills. I will keep you warm and safe. I’ll be true to none but you. I’ll try my best to make sure you never regret the decision. We’ll…we’ll find the things we seek together. Come and be my wife. Will you?”

“I will,” she sighs as his lips tentatively brush hers for the first time. 

He tips her head back, his hand at her neck and covers her mouth with his, a gentle but insistent pressure. She lets him pull her closer, her body molding against his firm one. She loves it, her very first lover's embrace, her first kiss like this. It is like something from a song.

They're both short of breath when they part again. He wraps an arm around her waist and, though her knees feel weak, they walk through the gate as one. 

She will never name any of this a mistake.

* * *


End file.
